


Tomorrow We'll See

by catadamon



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Brothels, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-14
Updated: 2011-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catadamon/pseuds/catadamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The task, at least, seemed simple enough. Oblige the ladies with some attention, and then proceed to slowly bring up the subject of current news, and then the answers would reveal themselves. It seemed as if this was one of the easier tasks Holmes had asked of me, despite the discomfort of my surroundings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow We'll See

Miss Violet's establishment was tucked safely away in Westbourne Terrace, granting easy accessibility to the upper-class clientele it served. However, no matter how ornate the house looked both outside and in, it was hard to disguise the establishment's intended purpose. Shrill, coquettish, laughter filled the air as you walked into the main room. The atmosphere was thick with smoke and lust. So many exotic creatures caged by elaborate their costumes, waiting to serve the delights of man. At least three girls to each gentlemen. And when a gentleman had required privacy, there were a selection of rooms upstairs specifically for client use.

Bordellos are a subject matter that I could never find myself to support. I have spent too many years of my life as a doctor not to know the disease and mistreatment that run rampant behind their closed doors. Not only that, but I could not help but pity the poor creatures, wasting away their brief lives as a slave to the lustful nature us humans have. Even while in the army I did not frequent them-- much to the never ending amusement of my fellow officers.

My readers already know the answer to the obvious question: Why was I in such a place if I did not wish to be? Holmes had sent me to do inquiries at Miss Violet's following several disappearances from similar establishments. All upper-class, all gone without a trace. It was something that Holmes, in any other circumstances, would have examined by himself. "You would get far more out of Miss Violet's employees than I," he had said with that wicked smile. “After all, you are the authority on the fairer sex." I knew why he didn't want to come, and it wasn't that using me was a tactical advantage. Whereas I was merely uncomfortable behind Miss Violet's doors, it would have been unbearable for my flatmate's celibate nature. To Holmes, walking into the foyer of Miss Violet's establishment would have been more painful than being burned with burning hot coals.

The task, at least, seemed simple enough. Oblige the ladies with some attention, and then proceed to slowly bring up the subject of current news, and then the answers would reveal themselves. It seemed as if this was one of the easier tasks Holmes had asked of me, despite the discomfort of my surroundings. Until it became apparent that none of Miss Violet's young ladies wished to speak a word on the matter. In many respects, it was similar the houses in Whitechapel -- no letting outsiders in their secretive world.

After two tries, I became rather aggravated. A young slip of a girl, blonde with large brown eyes, but not very handsome, wearing a hideously salmon pink dress was doing her best to console me by rubbing my shoulders while I nursed a finger of brandy. "I could give you everything you need if you will only pick me as your flower for the evening," she whispered into my ear. Everything but the information I need, I thought bitterly to myself. I tried to shrug her off once, but then remembering where I was and how her attentions on me would help her still have a place to sleep in the morning, I did not make a fuss and let her continue. My wounded shoulder was aching and her touch was relieving some of the pain. But when her hands started to wander lower, however, I gave her a sovereign and asked her to let me be. She tucked the gold coin into her bosom and smiled brightly at me. I continued to wave her on. I glanced around the large room, trying to find someone who could give me some scrap of information that I could take back to Holmes. I had been chided by him several times for my lack of ingenuity when making inquiries, and I was not about to suffer through his taunts again.

The girl I had sent away was now whispering excitedly to two other girls nearby. They glanced at me, their eyes lit up with the promise of money, and I quickly averted my gaze to the corner of the room. There was a large settee placed there, with lush pillows with ornate stitching. And a woman sitting there, smoking-- and completely alone, as if in her own world.

The numerous monographs by Sherlock Holmes discuss the art of observation. It is his argument that when first observing someone you look to the feet first, then the knees, and finally the hands-- and it is in those things, he argues, that you will learn the most valuable information.

But as Holmes is wont to point out, I do not follow his teachings very well.

It was the colour of paint on her lips that first drew my attention, and thus what I observed first. It was an incredible red -- a shade that would make the most vibrant of red roses jealous. Despite being on the other side of the room from her, I could tell they were soft and delicate. I could not help but stare at their beauty, beginning to theorize how those lips would feel when kissed.

It took this crippled soldier a great degree of strength to attempt to look away from such beauty. If I was going to learn anything to tell Holmes, I would have to regain my equilibrium somehow and break the spell that I was under. If not, I would have to go back to Baker Street, back to Holmes, with nothing but mutterings about sinful red lips. And I would never be able to explain the burning in my stomach to Holmes. The need that was starting to churn there. As a celibate, he would never understand.

But then she smiled and all was lost. I could not help myself.

Glancing up, I saw that she was staring right at me, smiling, as her ethereal eyes burned into me. The smoke in the room already effected my eyes so much my vision was blurred. But I could seen her face perfectly. It was long, graceful, but there was something not completely feminine, not quite right. The dark waves of her hair, hanging in large ringlets added a touch of delicacy to her face. She would never be a beauty, but with eyes like that, I knew she was not lacking in company either. I could feel sweat begin to trickle down my neck. I adjusted by collar. It did nothing to help.

As she lit another cigarette, I looked down to my drink, suddenly embarrassed. I needed to finish my duty and leave as soon as possible. Before I did something that I would truly regret.

Like speak to her.

Two girls approached me as I moved to get out of my chair. "Oh, you cannot leave yet," one pouted, placing a hand on my chest and pushing me back into my seat. Her voice was strangely low. "You have not picked your flower for the evening."

"I am sorry but I-" My voice stuttered as I schooled myself to not push the woman away. Lady of the Night or no, she was still a lady.

"He already has," a soft voice said.

The three of us looked up to see the mysterious smoking woman now standing only a few feet away. I had not even heard her approach! The two girls looked at the new comer with disgust. But any argument they were about to make died in their throats when the smoking woman's eyes glared at them. "There are other clients, ladies," the smoking woman said with a wave of her hand. The two girls sulked away, muttering to themselves.

I sat incredibly still, staring at the smoking woman. I wanted to thank her for coming to my rescue, but I was unable to speak. She tilted her head back, indicating that she wanted me to follow. I did not need a second invitation.

A puff of smoke was blown into my face as I joined her on the settee. She sat in one corner, myself in the other. Once more I found myself looking at her lips. Now that I was closer, so close, I was starting to wonder what they would taste like. My mind, wild with images of those red lips, decided that they would taste like the ripest strawberries, freshly picked from the family estate in my youth. For a moment, my eyes darted up to hers, but then quickly down to my hands as they fidgeted in my lap.

She laughed. And it was an intoxicating sound. "Do not worry, doctor," the creature purred. Her voice was a soft alto, barely above a whisper. Not something I would have expected. "I will not let anyone else near you this evening."

For a moment, the heat that was pooling in my stomach ran cold as my shoulders tensed. "How--?"

Her eyes widened for the briefest of moments. But she schooled her features back to its former mask of seduction. "Do you think Miss Violet does not keep her employees informed of her clientele? You have been asking questions of the girls all evening, surely you did not expect word to get around?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, the ringlets of her hair shifting backwards. The movement then draw my attention to her neck. The creamy white exposed skin of it. I looked back to my hands, all feeling of unease lost to embarrassment.

"I-I see," I muttered. While I did not give my real name to Miss Violet, my card did read that I was a doctor. It was a tactic that Holmes suggested when I do these operations for him. I was not the chameleon that Holmes could be and as I always found it difficult to be anything other than myself, so why try?

Pulling a silver cigarette case from her purse, she offered it to me. My hands shaking, I took one and nodded. After observing me for a moment, she struck a match and lit my cigarette. "You look stressed, doctor."

"Do I?" I laughed nervously.

"Yes, you do," she said intently. She lit her own cigarette and waved the flame out. "But I don't suppose you have reason to be. Do you?" There was another long beat of silence between us as she continued to stare at me. As if she were waiting for something. But then I remembered where we were. Of course she was waiting for something.

She was waiting for me to make my offer.

I could feel my face heat up. My voice faltering, I said, "I-I am ever so flattered Miss, uh?"

"Lily," she said, her mouth curving into an ironic smile. Of course, that was not her real name. Miss Violet's establishment was known for having each girl taking an assumed name of a flower. The concept of 'picking your flower' for the evening served as a double entendre for choosing your sexual partner.

As Miss Lily spoke, she curled her hand around my own. I quickly moved it away before she could make a lasting contact. It had been so long since someone touched me in that way. I knew if I let her touch me, there would be no stopping myself. It had been so long since I had experienced a woman's touch. My love for Mary had made me faithful to her long after her death. But those wicked red lips were ever tempting.

"I was not offering, doctor," she replied.

"You weren't?"

Lily let out another puff of smoke. "I can see you are certainly uncomfortable in these surroundings."

"I am looking for a girl."

"I believe most of us realize that by now..." she said with a sigh. "And I am not she?"

"No, though you are quite the woman." At my reply she simply smirked. A playful smirk that was ever inspiring my imagination to of things I could not act upon. I straightened my posture and inched towards Lily ever so slightly. The proximity would not help stop my imagination, but it might further my cause. "Perhaps you could help me."

"I just did," she replied simply as she placed the cigarette back into her mouth. My eyes followed.

After a moment of staring at those lips, I shook my head. "With finding her. She's disappeared from here, you see and-"

"Flowers disappear with the changing of seasons," Lily said. "Especially if they are lacking in attention. Take myself for example."

My face flushed. "Surely, you are… properly… treated." A woman such as she could not be wanting for clients. Not with those lips. The heat was now boiling within me. I closed my eyes and tried to will it away. I would not, I could not, give into the urges that were now slamming through my imagination with extreme vigor.

"Doctor," Lily said, her voice stern. Her hand reached out to my face. She pressed one finger under my chin, forcing me to look upward. "I should warn you, that you have spent an entire evening here without ah- encouraging any of these flowers. If Miss Violet were to find out you were simply wasting her flowers's time…"

I raised an eyebrow. "I believe you said you were not offering." My voice was suddenly extremely hoarse.

"Not when you look as though things would be over before we began, true. I am merely giving warning. I would suggest returning home for this evening before you are barred from here entirely. It would make finding Peony very difficult indeed."

My eyes grew wide. "Then you knew her--"

Lily tilted her head to the side. "Perhaps." She slowly moved her hand down my chin, across my chest, to tease areas below. My trouser legs suddenly tightened. She smiled. "But you are in no state to hear anything of importance this evening and absorb it," she said, gently running her fingertip over my sensitive area. I felt my entire body hum with desire. A moan came out from deep within me. "You should leave, doctor," she whispered, now leaning closer to me. Her lips were breaths away from mine. "Before you will be too indecent to be seen out of doors."

All I had to do was lean forwards and it would be done. I fought the urge to find out just what her lips lasted like. "But the girl-" I managed to say without moaning further.

Moving away from me, Lily stood up.

"If I came tomorrow, could you tell me more?" I asked, my voice becoming less salacious now that she had withdrawn her touch.

"Perhaps."

When I returned to Baker Street that evening, Holmes still had not returned from his own investigations for the evening. In normal circumstances, I would wait in the sitting room until I knew he was safely back home, and listen to him reveal the plethora of facts that he had discovered in the smallest of details. But that night I could not. I stumbled up to my little sanctuary on the top of the stairs and locked my door behind me before collapsing on my bed. Within minutes I relived myself of the troubles that had been binding me since leaving Miss Violet's, and proceeded to bury my head in my pillow for the shame of it all. And yet, despite that, I knew I would be returning there the following evening.

I almost convinced myself that it was on the behalf of the missing girl.

 

 

I could see Holmes drinking coffee at the table as I ascended down the stairs the next morning. He had deep bags under his eyes and, if I was not mistaken, was still dressed in the clothes he had left the rooms in the night pervious. He made no notice of me enter the rooms, and instead was very fascinated with his the cup of coffee. I joined him at the table and helped myself to Mrs. Hudson's breakfast offerings. "Late night?" I asked.

The sound of my voice made Holmes jump, spilling coffee all over Holmes's untouched toast and the tablecloth below it. I had not expected that to surprise him, as Holmes always observes everything that happens around him, so surely he heard my footsteps come down the stairs, much less my noisy scene of selecting breakfast. Clearly, he was extremely distracted by something. The case, perhaps? He made no acknowledgement to the mess or the distraction. Instead, he looked at me with his usual décor in the morning, as if nothing had happened to his now-soggy breakfast, and gave me a simple reply. "Yes, it was."

I waited for the reminder of his accounts of the evening-- in his usual Imperial tone that would explain of the dangerous situations he had got himself into while I was not there, and how he had discovered that vital clue that would piece everything together whilst I would have nothing to share. Then he would tease me harshly for not asking the right questions, I would get flustered, and then we would finish breakfast. And that would be that.

It never came.

Every time I tried to inquire about his findings, I stopped myself, because I was not yet ready to tell him what had taken place at Miss Violet's. Not that I would have to tell him everything-- he would deduce a good bit of it I was sure (and probably already had, come to think of it) which would make my situation even less comfortable. Thus, we two sat together in complete silence for the remainder of breakfast. After Mrs. Hudson came to pick of the plates, Holmes moved to one of the street windows, his Stradivarius in hand. I took the Daily Telegraph and moved over to the settee. After playing a small scale of notes, Holmes turned to me. "Another one went missing last night," he said solemnly as I opened the paper. I immediately closed it.

"Was that why you did not return until this morning?"

"Oh, I did come home last night," Holmes replied. He played a few more chords on his violin. I gave him a suspicious look. His unshaved face told me he had not. Holmes only shrugged. He then added, "Only to be called away a few moments later. I am surprised Lestrade did not wake you with his incessant knocking. I think he may have woken most of Baker Street last night."

"Perhaps I had not returned yet. I too had a late evening."

Holmes shook his head. "No, your light was on when I left again."

"I was rather exhausted from my inquiries, Holmes," I replied quickly, nerves balling in my stomach. _So it begins_ , I said to myself.

"Too exhausted to extinguish your light? Or was your light on for other reasons that would also encumbrance your hearing?"

My cheeks burned as I recalled what had really happened. Could he possibly have heard something? I glared at him, but Holmes chose not to notice. "Yes, I fell asleep with the light on. Alone."

After placing the violin carefully on the writing desk, Holmes turned to face me. "And did you unearth anything last night in your _expeditions?_." With a smirk, he added, "I do hope you returned home unscathed, old boy."

"If you were so worried, you could have gone yourself."

He made an elaborate show of seeming wounded at my words. I was not fooled in the slightest. "And taken away your chance to use your charms on such willing creatures? "

"May I remind you that I am not the philanderer you continue to insist that I am?"

"Come, come, Watson. I have seen you with the ladies that step through the door."

"Holmes-"

Raising an eyebrow, Holmes then asked, "You are not saying that I would have been more successful than you when it comes to--"

"I am trying to tell you that there was not much that I could ascertain. Most of the ladies did not wish to share anything they knew with me."

Holmes scoffed at that. "I am certain they were willing to share _something_ with you, Watson. It just did not pertain to the case." His grin widened. "Any _ladies_ in particular find you to their tastes?"

I could feel my cheeks heat up. I was like his beloved Stradivarius-- he knew what precise strings to pluck in order to get the desired effect. Biting the side of my cheek in an attempt to calm myself, I took a deep breath. It would not do to give into Holmes's taunts, so I continued with my report. As he knew I would. "There was a small lead, perhaps, from one of the ladies at Miss Violet's. She knew the latest missing girl's _nom de guerre_ , at least. She hinted that if I returned she could give me more information…"

Holmes turned his attention now to the window looking upon Baker Street. "My dear Watson, that will be most unnecessary," he said, quite distracted by the carriage that I could hear stopping close on the street.

Unable to help myself, I leaned slightly forward. "Oh? Did you solve the case then?"

"Mmm. Almost. I have one or two inquiries still on one of them." He turned to me, the grin returning.

"One of them? You have more than one case at the moment?"

Either Holmes did not hear my question, or he ignored it. "But I believe Lestrade is at this moment delivering the last pieces to the puzzle." On cue, the bell to the front door rang loudly. With a satisfied nod of the head, Holmes replaced the Stradivarius to its former location on the writing desk and then proceeded to walk over to the fireplace, leaning on the mantle.

"Then last night-- everything I did was for naught!" I protested. "Holmes! Why in the _world_ \--?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I had more belief in your charms than I should have. My apologies, dear chap. It won't happen again."

"Holmes!"

There was a loud knock on the door. "Come in!" Holmes called.

Lestrade opened the door to our rooms with a bright smile on his face, carrying a very large overcoat, that was clearly not his own. "We've got him now, Mr. Holmes! We've got him! Oh, good morning Dr. Watson," Lestrade nodded politely to me. Holmes was right. I could see the sparkle in his eye. Lestrade had found something very important. "We double checked the tailor, just as you asked, and we found his name. Captured him just an hour ago! He had them locked in his wine cellar."

"You found the girls?" I inquired.

"All but one," Lestrade replied, looking to our floor. "Although Mr. Holmes here insists that this last girl, 'Peony,' was not involved in this case, and is something else entirely."

"Miss Peony does not fit the pattern presented," Holmes replied, smirking.

Peony? But that was the name--

Before I could say anything, Holmes clapped his hands loudly. "But congratulations, Lestrade! Although I do wish you would have wired me to tell me before you swooped in. I would have rather liked to see the blackguard's face when you nabbed him up," he said, offering the police officer a brandy.

It pains me to admit that when Lestrade and Holmes sat down to discuss the conclusion of the case, I only half listened. Oh, I took notes on the matter-- the heavy wool coat in Fall, strange instances of shoes being left behind and why, it was all written down in my trusted notebook. But I did not absorb a word of it. When I looked back through my notes days later, I could not even recall even writing what I did that day I was so distracted. As Holmes would say, my imagination took over rational thought: Why did Holmes had sent me to search for a girl who he knew had nothing to do with the case that I believed I was inquiring? Why did he not tell me there were two cases?

What's more, as I racked my brain for any kind of inference that would help me make sense of my friend's strategy, the images of red lips that tasted of strawberries and Lilies of the Valley were guiltily overtaking my mind. And those haunting eyes. It was to the point that I was quite afraid that my state of mind would become obvious to the two men conversing in front of me, but could not make an excuse to leave either.

Lestrade, thankfully, only stayed for a few minutes-- the time required to relay the findings of Scotland Yard's morning discoveries to Holmes and to invite him to the station later. Lestrade never openly asked for help in these matters if he could help it, so I am sure he came up with a clever, but obvious, reason why Holmes's presence was required, but I do not recall what it was. I did notice, however, that Lestrade did not extend the invitation to me. I assumed that was because of the bewildered expression on my face surely turning to annoyed. Holmes says I wear my heart on my sleeve too much. I am inclined to agree with him.

When the door closed behind Lestrade, I turned my attention Holmes. "If you knew Peony was not one of the kidnapped girls, then why in blazes did you send me--"

Holmes put up a hand for silence. "I thought she _probably_ was not. But I could not be certain."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Holmes, this is information that you could have shared with me before I set out--"

Shaking his head, Sherlock once again reached for his Stradivarius. "No, Watson that simply would not have done at all. I said it was merely a theory out of several possibilities. Had I told you the you would have gone in there inquiring the reasoning behind it, and not simply trying to find _facts_ about her. No, no, sending you without any prejudgments was much more ideal for finding information."

"But I did not find anything because I did not know what to look for!"

"No, you did not find anything because you were not looking," he replied icily. "You were too entranced by the lovely flowers on display." He then began to play a tune that I instantly identified as Wagner-- meaning he was in deep contemplation and our conversation was now closed in his opinion.

Although I knew it would annoy him-- not that I cared much at that point-- I still continued to speak. "Now that I know more of the picture, am I to go to Miss Violet's again this evening, then? Miss Lily said that she would--"

"That would be quite unhelpful and unnecessary," he replied, talking over me as he continued to play. "I suspect that we will hear news about Miss Peony in a few days time."

I would not be brushed off so easily. "But Holmes--"

Holmes scratched the bow across the strings of the violin, producing a horrid sound. Taking his violin away from his chin, he glared at me. The one that Holmes used on villains when they had been caught in his web. "Watson."

I refused to be compliant once again in such matters. Not when such a viable lead was open to us. "She could provide us with information this evening instead of waiting--"

"I have already said that it is unnecessary, Watson," he interrupted. "This woman must have had a _profound_ effect on you--although I am forced to remind you what happened the _last_ time a woman did and the outcome that came about because of it." When I opened my mouth to speak, he added icily, "Do not let me stop you from frequenting Miss Violet's establishment, but I refuse to give you a pretense to do so. Who am I to stop you from acting against human nature? Although, I would have thought a man of your medical knowledge would know better when it came to that whorehouse."

I glared at him, and he returned the glare. I did not speak, because I was afraid of what I might say to him. Or yell at him, as it felt like I should. Although I expected a whiplash of his wit for not producing the outcome he was hoping for, I had not expected his words to be so piercing. And why should they be? He was right after all. But I was too angered to allow myself to agree with him in that moment.

After a few heavy breaths, I walked out of the sitting room, slamming the door behind me.

 

After stalking the streets of London for hours, I found myself on Westbourne Terrace once more, standing in front of the staircase leading into Miss Violet's establishment. Not that I intended to visit her house after walking out on Holmes like that. I was far too incensed to make out any direction I was walking. Perhaps it was a rebellious decision made by my subconscious. Standing in front of the doors, I became slightly hesitant. Holmes had said that returning was unnecessary and I believed him. If he knew that Peony was a runaway, then he probably knew where she had run. He was entirely capable of finding her without whatever help Lily could offer.

But I needed to see Lily again-- if only to banish the carnal desire thrumming in my gut -- my conscience be damned! And if she now had information that would help us locate Peony, all the better.

As I took a step towards Miss Violet's doors, a carriage pulled up behind me. For a brief moment, my mind entertained the crazed idea that it was Holmes, come to apologize. However, the voice that called out, was not that of Holmes. "Doctor?" I whirled around to see Miss Lily's face peering out the carriage window. "It is you," she said. Her lips pressed into a shy smile as she opened the door to the carriage. As she did so, she leaned forward so I could see her more clearly. Dressed in a black velvet down with dark gray sicilienne, her skin looked even more pale, almost glowing. The plunging neckline of the dress exposed far more than a proper lady would allow. I quickly averted my eyes before I began to stare at her. Sweat was running down my neck, and I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. When I opened my mouth to speak, it my voice refused to comply.

This only made her smile wider. "Are you perhaps looking for me?"

I swallowed, willing my voice to work once more. "Only partially."

"Only partially?" she chortled. It was that lovely laugh again and I found myself walking towards her carriage before I realized that I was doing. She eyed me curiously. "How strange. I was wholly looking for you. However, this evening has become very inconvenient indeed. I must inform you that I shall not be at Miss Violet's this evening."

"Shall I call again tomorrow evening then?" I kicked myself for sounding so conventional, when the subject at hand was nothing but. It was not as if I were ringing at her house for tea. She was a Lady of the Night, for God's sakes!

"No," she shook her head. Even by the light of the street lamps I could see her dark raven curls swaying as she did so. "Even then you would not find me there. I am afraid that Miss Violet has canceled the terms of our agreement as of last night."

Panicked, I quickly asked, "Not because of me, I hope!"

"Only partially," she replied with my expression from before, looking thoroughly amused with herself.

The added guilt to the situation did not make things better at all. I fumbled to take my hat off and took a few steps closer to the carriage. Now I could see those haunting eyes glowing in the light. "Miss Lily, you have my sincerest apologizes." I grabbed her hand and held it gently in my own. Her fingers were long, and even the light grey satin gloves she wore could not hide their delicacy. "Is there any way that I could make it up to you?”

For a few long moments, all she did was look at me, her grey eyes glittering. I could not decide what I liked looking at more, those eyes or her red lips. And then, softly, she said, "You really don't know, do you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She pulled her hand away from me and slid to the other side of the carriage. “Get in," she said flatly.

"Miss Lily?"

"You have asked what I would require for you to make things better for me in this situation. I require for you to get in," she said, her voice turning lower and sounding almost Imperial. It reminded me of the tone Holmes used quite frequently when I was beginning to test his patience. Regrettably, I must admit it had a profound effect on me and I could feel things begin to stir in my nether regions.

I looked over my shoulder, suddenly uneasy. In my head, I could hear Holmes's voice berating me for even considering something that could be so potentially dangerous. I knew nothing about this woman, and there was a chance that this was all some elaborate trap in some way. Perhaps Holmes did not wish for me to return because he discovered and there was some danger at Miss Violet's? Or danger involving Lily. When I thought about it, he began to snap at me once I mentioned her name.

But the cruel words he had said to me, along with the lust I was still feeling towards this woman overcame my better judgment. I stepped into the carriage. Her hand brushed against my thigh as I sat down. She tapped on the carriage ceiling with her other hand to signal the diver to continue on. I did not even think to inquire where our destination was while she was in such close proximity. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It was everything I could do to not kiss her then. Not when her lips were so close, and smiling at me. But I fought the urge with everything I had. "Miss Lily, I do not want to take advantage--"

She chuckled then. "Doctor, your arguments are completely invalid. You must recall, you were standing outside a bordello."

"How you talk--"

"I hardly think there is anything _but_ carnal desires currently pla--"

And that was all she managed to say before I crushed her lips with mine. Despite her teasing, I do believe I surprised her at first, as I could tell she shifted her arms in an attempt to push me back. Had she done so, I would have let her go and would say nothing more about it.

But after a moment, she melted into my embrace and accepted my kiss, opening her mouth invitingly. I happily obliged, caressing her tongue with my own. As I did so, I pulled her closer to me making my erection known to her, despite the yards of velvet that her dress was composed of. She pulled away from the kiss, only to let out a shuddering sigh. Her eyes were closed in bliss. It was an effect that I could only produce after much practice in my adolescent years. I am quite experienced when it comes to kissing a woman. Those red lips were swollen from the kiss, and they never looked so beautiful. I kissed her again, chastely this time, before moving to her strong jaw line and adoring that with kisses as well. As I did so, she pressed herself against me, her breathing becoming harder. I moved my ministrations downward, kissing her long lovely neck, sucking on the beautiful porcelain skin. My hands fumbled with the velvet material behind her, as I attempted to draw her even closer still.

In panted breaths, she began to chant, "Doctor, doctor!" Her voice, I also noted, became slightly lower in the act of such passion. I moved from my administrations on her neck downward, now following her jarring collarbone gently with my tongue. She shuddered again, once more saying "Doctor" in a breathless prayer. It only encouraged me.

But as my hand began to push up her skirts, her hand grabbed mine. "Doctor," she implored again. However I was not about to stop, as the demon of lust had far overtaken my judgment by that point. I kissed her again, roughly this time.

" _Watson_ -" someone hissed. "Watson, stop!" And in a voice that was even deeper still. A voice very familiar to me. A hand that was not my own quickly pressed against my mouth. It was a satin gloved hand that I was quickly realizing did not belong to a woman. And a hand that I knew very well. I believe my heart stopped there for a moment.

"Homm-" I said from behind the hand.

"Shhh…" I found myself staring at those red lips again, unable to process the obvious. The familiar voice that was coming out did not match those red lips that had haunted me since I saw them the night previous. "Not here, Watson. We do not want a scandal on our hands now, do we?" Those grey eyes stared at me intently. "Can I trust you not to shout?"

It was humorous that he did not ask if he could trust me not to throttle him to death right there. A wave of humiliation and anger crashing together in some intangible emotion swelled within me. For a moment, I thought I might punch him in the face for this elaborate scheme. But I nodded just the same.

He slowly took his hand away, and moved as far away as the carriage would allow. I must confess, I did the same. For the remainder of the carriage ride, Holmes quietly fixed the elaborate garment he was wearing, transforming himself back into Miss Lily. I must admit, if I was not completely appalled with the situation, I would have been astounded by the role Holmes had taken. Even by the poor light in the carriage, looking at him now that I knew of Miss Lily's true identity, I felt a fool that I did not realize it earlier. The arch of the nose could be no one but Holmes's. Not to mention the long graceful hands, those haunting eyes and the pale, pale bony frame. The longer I looked, the more unbearable the truth became. And then a question began to plague my mind: If I sought Lily out because I thought she was beautiful, did that in turn mean I thought Holmes was beautiful as well?

 

Holmes signaled to the driver to stop once we arrived at Baker street. He did not move until I had completely exited the carriage. It was a small gesture I appreciated. My head and heart were swirled with confusion and utter horror of what had just transpired. I was not sure if I would be able to touch him ever again, even by accident, without experiencing some kind of shame. He stood by the steps leading up to the door, allowing me to open it. I was thankful it was long past Mrs. Hudson's bedtime, it would mean not having to bother with trying to explain the beautiful woman accompanying me who happened to also be my flatmate. But perhaps Mrs. Hudson would not be deceived and would know Lily for Holmes immediately.

I walked up the stairs to our rooms without so much as a glance back. When I opened the door to our rooms, I turned the gas on and then marched over to the table where we kept the brandy and poured myself a large serving. I swallowed it down in two gulps before Holmes entered the room. He closed the door quietly behind him, acting quite unlike himself. Or as much unlike himself as he could wearing a female prostitute's clothing. He slouched as he leaned up against the entrance to our rooms, I could only assume bracing for the inevitable verbal lashing I was about to give to him. I could only oblige.

I tried to keep my voice calm, but it was rather useless. I was shivering, and it was not because of a lack of fire burning in the fireplace. My voice raised, I said, "How long have you been doing this-this- there is not even a proper word for it, is there? You--"

"Little less than a week," he replied quietly. But his tone was enough to stop my ranting. "Although this was not the first time I have donned such a disguise," he said with a shrug. "There have been many times where I have found it useful."

"I do hope you refer to previous times you were following a line investigation and not other amusements you might have," I spat, pouring myself another brandy.

Holmes crossed his arms against his chest. It was a gesture that was so like him, but did not match the guise he was in. "Oh really, Watson!"

I devoured the second glass of brandy just as quickly as the first. "Do not feign to be so scandalized, Holmes! You are wearing a woman's dress, for God's sakes! Not to mention what you willingly did to me. Have you any idea--"

"I do, and for that I am very sorry." He looked down at the floor, his voice becoming quiet once more. "It was not intentional, I promise you. Last night I was only trying to help you, as it seemed you were floundering under the attention of those girls…"

I replaced the glass of brandy and walked over to my chair. With an exasperated sigh I sat down, burying my face in my hands. "Why did you even send me there if you were investigating Miss Violet's yourself?"

Holmes shook his head and sighed. "I was not getting the response I was hoping for. Usually when I approach women dressed... Like this," he gestured to the dress. "They feel more relaxed. But even I could not get them to open up to me. I thought that you might--" His voice trailed off.

"And your seduction aimed towards myself?"

Slamming his fist against the closed door, he pushed himself away from it, now seeming just as upset as I was. He stalked over to the table with the brandy. He furiously uncorked the bottle. "Watson, you have every reason to be upset with me. But understand what I did was for the benefit of the case, as well as your well being."

Incredulous, I replied, "In what way was seducing your sole friend, under the guise of a woman I may add, for my benefit?"

“I did not seduce you, Watson." Holmes insisted, as he poured a finger of brandy for himself. "I was merely playing a part."

"And that is how you justify--"

Taking a deep swig of the brandy, Holmes turned his attention back to me, glaring furiously at myself. "I believe you were the one who kissed me, old chap." He said, bitingly. "You practically forced yourself upon me! Were you so starved for romantic attention that you would handle a stranger so tempestuously?"

Incredulous, my mouth opened and closed, unable to form a proper retort. My face was burning with embarrassment. It was then that I realized it was the truth. But I would never say so. Instead, I attacked using a different tactic. "You could have told me this morning, instead of your elaborate act--"

"What, and made you feel a fool? I was trying to steer you away!"

" _How can I feel anything but the fool_?" I bellowed as I stood up from my chair. It was rather a good thing I had not brought the glass of brandy with me, for I was sure I would have thrown it in the fireplace. "I cannot expect you to understand. You are incapable of comprehending anything when it comes to emotion. Holmes if you had not…” my voice cracked. "If you had not stopped me…"

"You would have deduced it, of that I am certain. There are particular external organs that a lady does not possess. You would have found them eventually."

" _Holmes!_ " I exclaimed, scandalized.

"Again, my apologies, " he said, averting his eyes. His voice faltered for a moment. "You must forgive me. You are not the only one who has been affected by this evening's events. You are quite right. I should have not let you go so far. Therein the fault lies with me. And my own weakness-" his voice faded.

Slowly, I realized what he was saying. While I had initiated the kiss, it had been Holmes that was so responsive. Could it be--? My cheeks grew hot at the thought of it. And, while I am loathe to admit it, it did send a spark through my entire body.

Looking away from me, Holmes let out a long breath. I had never seen him so uncertain-- not even at the height of the Moriarty case. "I would not blame you if you decided to move after tonight," he said very quietly. "It would be quite understandable, in fact. You, being the gentleman that you are." He glanced at me and then back at the mantle. "But you are mistaken in one of your conclusions. I do understand more about emotions than you realize." Holmes gripped the mantle as though he could crack it in two.

My heart sank at these words. I had said too much without understanding that he was just as confused. "Holmes-" I took a step towards him without realizing it. I hated him for what he had done. I felt defiled, betrayed. Holmes had finally gone too far. But when he was acting so wounded, I could not help but feel partially responsible. I hated him for that as well.

I walked over to the mantle. I still could not bring myself to touch him, but I could at least look my friend in the eye. "I am going nowhere Holmes. Except perhaps to bed." I let out a sigh and looked down to the floor. "I am very confused at the moment, and I need time to think."

Holmes shook his head. "You cannot be so understanding a person as to stay after this. _Leave_. Escape from my depravity while you can."

"It is a bit late for that warning, don't you think?" I asked, trying to smile. I only succeeded in curling the side of my lip. Holmes did not so much as move. Clearing my throat, I continued, "In the morning, when you are Sherlock Holmes once more, we will talk."

He leaned his forehead against the mantle. In almost a whisper he replied, "You, of all people, know I am not equipped for conversation dealing with such things."

I moved to place my hand on his shoulder, but found I still not bring myself to touch him. It would probably be a while before I could. Instead, I placed my hand next to his on the mantle. He looked to me then, his eyes a deep steel color. "Tomorrow, we'll see."

 

_fin_


End file.
